


HIC SVNT MONSTRA

by WennyT



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Halloween, Horror Comedy, M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-01
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-12-31 03:16:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1026614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WennyT/pseuds/WennyT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Changmin wakes up one day to have an existential crisis. Yunho helps him out of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	HIC SVNT MONSTRA

**Author's Note:**

> My actual Halloween gift to all my readers.  
> HIC SVNT MONSTRA means, quite literally, "Here Be Monsters" in Latin.  
> Feedback and comments are always dearly welcomed.

* * *

The first inkling Changmin had that something was wrong was when he woke up, naked in his own bed.

 

Normally that was not something that raised any internal alarms, but he was naked, facedown on his mattress instead of his pillow, his duvet was shredded on the floor and there was dried blood. 

 

Lots of it. Mostly dried, and flaking off of him. But also soaked into his bed.

 

After nearly half an hour of huddling against his headboard freaking out over how hard it is to get blood out of Egyptian cotton, and over the fact that _there was dried blood all over him_ , he decided that it simply Would Not Do for him to rock slowly in a corner and channel his inner damsel in distress.

 

He was Choikang Changmin after all. Choikang Changmin would never do something as plebian as freaking out; _that_ was a thing for lesser mortals.

 

And also because he could not for the life of him remember what happened all of yesterday, and he did not want to think too closely about that. Might bring about an actual panic attack.

 

So he stumbled into the shower, checking once more that there were not any open wounds on him where the blood could have ooze out from, and tried to scrub himself clean. It took three rounds of scrubbing to make him blood-free, and he noted absently as he stepped out that he had scrubbed so hard that some of the skin on his arms and legs were flaking off.

 

Throwing on some clothing haphazardly, he grabbed his trusty knapsack and ran out of the door after glancing at the clock. The half an hour he had wasted doing a remarkable impersonation of an asylum patient meant he had ten minutes to get to the company before he was late for dance practice. 

 

Fuck, Yunho was going to kill him.

 

Running down the stairs, Changmin remembered with a start that he did not have breakfast because he was so busy being put off by all the dried blood. 

 

No wonder he felt so hungry. 

 

* * *

 

The second inkling Changmin had that something was wrong was when he opened the door to their usual studio and Yunho was there, warming up with stretches, and he smelled _good_.

 

_Hungry_

 

All right, well, Yunho usually smelled good; a mixture of baby powder, green tea shower gel and clean sweat. But it was not that kind of good today. Today he smelled phenomenal. He smelled delicious. 

 

_Hungry hungry hungry_

 

He smelled like freshly baked pizza. Like hitsumabushi made by this chef whose shop both of them liked to frequent in Nagoya. Like spaghetti carbonara drowned in bacon. Like deep-fried chicken just pulled from the fryer. Like steaming-hot kimchi ramyeon in cold winter.

 

_Hungry hungry so hungry_

 

Yunho smelled… edible. Delectable. _Scrumptious_.

 

_Hungry hungry hungry hungry so very hungry_

 

The man in question noticed Changmin gaping at him from the reflection in the wall-length mirror in front of him and turned, beaming. “Changminnie! There you are, I was getting worried when six-thirty went by with no sight of you, thought you were sick—”

 

_Hungry hungry hungry very very very hungry need to eat hungry hungry_

 

With a muted roar, Changmin flung himself forward and onto the other, startling him into cutting off his sentence with a gasp. Yunho smelled positively mouth-watering.

 

Then everything went red and black and to hell.

 

* * *

 

Changmin woke up again, disoriented and strangely sated. He was not in his bed this time, but… a dance studio? And lying down, too.

 

_Full full time to rest not hungry full_

 

He pulled himself up, groaning, and caught sight of himself, reflected in the studio mirrors, and promptly shrieked. “Aaaaaaaaaargh!”

 

There was blood everywhere. On his clothes, his face, his mouth. Dripping from his face. Fresh blood. What the fuck—

 

And something raggedy next to him, that looked like a lump of bloody— a mound of bloody—

 

Changmin scooted closer, batting at the pile of— of— something. There was a pair of shoes attached to one end of that heap of— his mind blanked out again on a descriptive word— but the shoes were very familiar, so familiar that there was a sneaking suspicion as to what— or who— that bundle of something was—

 

His heart broke, torn to pieces when he pulled aside some rag-like cloth—clothes, with a trembling hand, to reveal half of Yunho’s face, Yunho’s poor face, beautiful even when ravaged. The other half was chewed through, so much that the bones in the eye area splintered, and the eye nothing but a red masticated mess.

 

There were wounds, gaping wide to reveal the flesh and bone beneath, all over Yunho, and Changmin lowered his gaze slowly, until his vision focused on the blood—and things all over his hands and beneath his fingernails. 

 

“ _No_ ,” Changmin gasped, feeling bile and nausea rise up in throat. Yunho’s other eye was still open, as though staring at him in accusation, with what was left of his perfect face frozen forever in terror. “No no no no no no no no no no no no no no—” 

 

Pushing away from the bod—the cor— _Yunho_ , Changmin clawed at his own face, at his own mouth, spitting out the blood still lingering on his tongue. Fuck—fuck—fuck, how could he do this, how could he—This was Yunho, his Yunho, his brother, friend, comrade, partner, how could he— how in hell could he—

 

He looked up just in time to see Yunho’s one remaining eye rolling in its socket, until it was facing towards him, looking at him. Changmin screamed once more, scrabbling backwards while his hands are still tearing at his own mouth. “Fuck fuck fuck I did not just see that fuck fuck fuck fuck _what the fuck_ —”

 

“Stop it, Changmin,” Yunho’s mangled mouth slurred, upper lip flapping in a most gruesome way. The bod— the corp— Yunho sat up, and began to tuck his disemboweled intestines back into his abdomen with rather disturbing efficiency. “You’ll take your face off at that rate.”

 

“No no no you’re dead no no no I killed you _I ate you_ ,” Changmin pulled at his hair, yanking hard, and so hard that clumps of his hair came off in his hands, stuck on the drying blood. A gasping moan escaped his lips as he stared at his hand, then at Yunho, and at his reflection in the studio mirror. 

 

He looked like a— like a _monster_ , with his scalp half-ripped off and most of the skin on his face scraped off by his own nails, like a— like a—

 

“Only one out of three correct. You’re not up to your usual standards, Changminnie,” Yunho said cheerfully, while getting onto his –still intact—feet. The smile turned into a grimace as he rotated his shoulders, then neck. “Although I wished you didn’t gnaw, bone is so hard to regrow compared to flesh—”

 

“What the fuck is going on?” Changmin erupted, unable to tear his eyes away from the huge chunk of bicep hanging loose from Yunho’s right arm, like a macabre sleeve. “I ate you, I fucking killed you, you died, and then now you’re—you’re alive— and you’re— _what the fuck is going on_!”

 

“No, Changmin, calm down, you’re getting hysterical—oh shit—” Yunho took a step towards him, but halted in his steps, swearing under his breath, when the abrupt movements made his recently tucked in intestines spill out again with an oily sounding splat. 

 

Changmin shook his head, thumping both fists at his temple. And everything went black again. 

 

* * *

 

The next time he woke up, Yunho was hovering over him, in possession of two whole eyes, dressed in a completely different outfit and looking suspiciously blood-free. 

 

Changmin was about to breathe a sigh of relief and tell Yunho about a ridiculous nightmare he had, about him turning into a zombie and eating Yunho and Yunho coming back to life, when Yunho opened his mouth to utter a sentence that stopped Changmin in his tracks. “Oh, good, you’re awake, I was worried that you did yourself in with that punch to your brain.”

 

“What— What—” Changmin gawped. He reached a hand to feel the top of his head instinctively, and encountered nothing but thick hair and unbroken skin.

 

“This—What—” Changmin ran his hand in his hair again, staring at Yunho in panic. “I don’t understand— What—”

 

“No, no, calm down, calm down and hyung will explain, okay? Shhh, shhhh,” Yunho soothed, keeping his voice low and calm.

 

* * *

 

“So… I’m a zombie?” Changmin said, rolling the words around on his tongue, like they are a new dish. “And you’re—you’re—”

 

“A werewolf.” Yunho supplied helpfully, leaning his shoulder against Changmin’s. “I’ve always been. And I can’t be one hundred percent sure you’re a zombie, but your symptoms certainly indicate that you’re one. The hunger and the messy eating and all.”

 

“So that’s why you have those monthly gathering with your friends?” Changmin ventured, pursing his lips in thought. “The ’85 line. Your friends from Gwangju. Is that why? You’re— you’re a pack?”

 

“I suppose you can say that,” Yunho pulled his own knapsack to him, and dug around, searching for something. “We don’t have the traditional hierarchy that’s present in formal packs, though. We just meet up to chat, and to run.”

 

“Oh.” Changmin nodded, not sure what he was to reply to that. Silence bloomed between them, an expanding manifestation of tension. He scuffed a shoe on the floor. “Why… Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

 

“Would you have believed me?” Yunho asked in lieu of a reply, still rifling through his bag. “And even if you believed me, you would have feared me. I didn’t want that.”

 

“But—” Changmin blurted, turning towards Yunho. “But. You’re my friend. You’re my hyung. Of course I would have believed you. And— and not fear you. And helped you.”

 

Yunho’s mouth –perfect again whole again— curved into a wry smile. “Would you, Changminnie?” 

 

“I would!” Changmin insisted, indignation a burning ball in his stomach. It felt like an unpleasant mixture between indigestion and heartburn. “I— I would.”

 

Yunho simply hummed, dragging a mini ice cooler from the depths of his bag, and tossing it at Changmin. “Have this, it will help with the hunger.”

 

Changmin caught it on reflex, but the impact was too great, and the nail on his little finger of his left hand came off. 

 

“Ow,” he said tonelessly. Yunho chuckled, a quick bark of laughter, and waved his hand at the cooler. “That’ll help. Really.”

 

Changmin opened the lid to find a large slab of very bloody, very rare-looking steak in all its crimson, chilled glory. “Aw, hyung,” he deadpanned, “this is so sweet. You shouldn’t have.”

 

Yunho cuffed Changmin about his neck, making sure to be gentle about it. He didn’t want to take Changmin’s head off accidentally. “Don’t be shirty. That was supposed to be my lunch, you know. But you need it more. Eat it.”

 

“Why,” Changmin poked at it warily, recoiling when his finger sank in. The meat was not very rare; it was raw, completely uncooked. “This is… beef?”

 

“Premium Korean beef, the kind that you’ve been having all your life, you little shit,” Yunho made a face at him. “And if I’m right, and you’re a zombie, then you need to keep eating, especially raw meat, to keep the hunger at bay.”

 

“Or else?” Changmin had an inkling what Yunho would say, but he just wanted to hear it out loud, anyway.

 

“Or else, well,” Yunho shrugged, offering a faintly amused grin. “You’ll do what you just did to me about an hour ago, to whatever living being that is nearest to you at that time. And unlike me, our very human staff and stylists can’t grow parts of their bodies back when they get eaten.”

 

He sobered up, continuing in utmost seriousness. “You say you can’t remember what happened the whole of yesterday. Well, it was our day off, and you told me the day before that you wanted to stay in your flat and game the day away. I don’t know if you remember that. And since your symptoms only started this morning,” he made a vague gesture at Changmin’s mouth and hands, “I’ll say you’re a newly made zombie. A zombie newborn. Which means you’ll get hungry easily. And if you don’t eat, eh…”

 

“How do you know all these?” Changmin blinked, trying not to feel overwhelmed by the barrage of information, and the apparent fact that he was now a fucking zombie. “How do you—you’re not one—”

 

“There was one living at the end of the street next to ours,” Yunho said, rummaging around in his bag again and coming up with a plastic knife and fork. “He was old and nice, except when we –the children— tried to steal the animals he would stuff and prop up as lawn ornaments. Then he would get mad and a little bitey. The parents in my neighbourhood, including my own, always warned us that if we were too naughty, they’ll put us in a giftbox and mailed us to old Mister Lee for dinner.”

 

“That’s,” Changmin fumbled for words, even as he accepted the cutlery from Yunho. He wanted to say “barbaric”, but judging from the way he had just chewed on Yunho’s face barely an hour ago, he did not really have any right to pass judgement. “That’s—”

 

“A very effective way of warning your children from acts of vandalism and theft,” Yunho nudged the cooler nearer to Changmin, heartened when Changmin did not pull away again. “Even if it wasn’t very nice. Eat.”

 

Changmin ate, trying not to ignore the way the cold bovine flesh and blood felt great in his mouth, sliding down his throat. Yunho continued, stretching his legs out so that they bump against Changmin’s gently, knee against knee, foot against foot. “We were really lucky that you went bitey on me, Changminnie, and not anyone else. And luckier still that no one knew we wanted to practice Scream this morning. Otherwise… yeah.”

 

Nodding, Changmin forced himself to concentrate on finishing the slab of beef, feeling slightly comforted by how Yunho had said “we” and not “you”.

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so… What now?” Packing away the used cutlery and cooler, Changmin placed them back into Yunho’s knapsack, making sure to tidy the mess in Yunho’s bag into a neater arrangement while he was at it. “What do we do now?”

 

The stare Yunho gave him made Changmin pat his hands over his own face, worried that maybe his skin or nose or ears were falling off this time. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? Did my nose drop off? Or is it my teeth?”

 

“Changmin,” Yunho said, enunciating every syllable crisply as he clambered to his feet. “Now we practise Scream’s choreography. You said you had difficulty remember which hand to stretch out when we do the ducking move, right?”

 

Changmin blinked at Yunho, nonplussed. “You mean I still don’t get a day off even though I’ve basically suffered through an existential crisis of the paranormal kind and an insanity scare?” 

 

“We are professionals, Changminnie,” Yunho frowned at him, arms akimbo at his hips. “We don’t take days off.”

 

“Right, right.”


End file.
